


Gravity is a habit that's hard to shake off

by runningondreams



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M, Fluff, post-JE fic, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 16:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2031564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runningondreams/pseuds/runningondreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose just hadn’t expected to be regaled with Tornic love songs sung in previously undiscovered keys or told that her mother had always reminded him of his post-Gern114-intergalactic-law professor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gravity is a habit that's hard to shake off

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [](http://studyofrunning.livejournal.com/profile)[**studyofrunning**](http://studyofrunning.livejournal.com/)  and [](http://kahtyasofia.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://kahtyasofia.livejournal.com/) **kahtyasofia**  for encouragement and beta-skills.

Rose had been to several of her mother`s and Pete’s parties over the handful of years she’d spent in this parallel and just-so-slightly-different world, but none of them could quite live up to this one. Though, that probably had more to do with the guest list that any effort on Jackie’s part (one name, began with “the”, tended to confuse doormen).

It was possible that introducing him to the open bar had been a mistake. Not a planet-destroying, universe-collapsing mistake, not even an accidentally-set-the-microwave-on-fire mistake (though he was still barred from the kitchen over that one), but a mistake all the same.

She told herself it was a coping mechanism. Not a particularly healthy coping mechanism, but highly preferable to the shut-down-and-angst routine she was used to. Rose just hadn’t expected to be regaled with Tornic love songs sung in previously undiscovered keys or told that her mother had always reminded him of his post-Gern114-intergalactic-law professor (“She used to carry a great pink uinblok and she’d hit us with it if we missed a date,” he nodded sagely. Rose wondered what a uinblok was and what he would do if she found one). The wild and expansive gesturing she’d been prepared for, the distracted mumbling in incomprehensible languages was practically a given (and didn`t even require the judicious application of liquor), but when he started naming and cooing over the molecules composing his Maitai she felt drastic measures needed to be taken.

“You’re drunk,” she informed the jumble of long limbs and wild brown hair that had recently been a new form of highly intelligent alien life.

The (new new new) Doctor smiled expansively, eyes focused on something over her left shoulder. “I know,” he beamed, “Isn’t it _brilliant?_ ”

She blinked and felt the room tilt slightly with unsettling revelation. “Oh my god, you’re really _drunk_.”  

He nodded agreeably.

“That’s me. _Drunk_. The biochemical effect of alcohol upon the human body, often leading to impaired judgment, faulty balance, and a general lowering of inhibitions. Enjoyed by countless beings throughout the multiverse in virtually every time-period since the discovery of fermentation.” He gestured vaguely at her, “Part of history, Rose. We, are part of history.”

Rose tried to determine whether nearly being splashed with sticky cocktails was _supposed_ to make her want to hug him. Probably not. Maybe it was the babbling. She`d missed the babbling. She grimaced, tugged him haltingly to his feet with a vague idea of finding something for him to talk extensively about, and asked breathlessly, “Us drinking is part of history?”

“Indeed it is.” The Doctor nodded seriously, grinned distractedly (and it was completely unfair, the things that grin did to her insides), “and this is part of history too,” he added, and bent down to land a sloppy kiss somewhere in the vicinity of Rose`s mouth, running both of them into the wall in a stumbling attempt at balance.

When he jerked upright to examine an unexpectedly bruised elbow she couldn’t decide whether to feel disappointed or relieved. It was becoming obvious that she wasn’t nearly drunk enough to appreciate this turn of events.

The (new, new, _new_ , she reminded herself again) Doctor grabbed her hands and gave her a serious look that almost managed to counteract his glazed eyes and the smear of icing over his cheekbone. “Does the planet feel like it’s spinning faster to you? I think it’s spinning faster. Or maybe it’s spinning slower. It’s different, anyway. Strange.” He stumbled back without waiting for an answer, dragging her into the hall with a mumble of _relative velocity_ and _skundrublininin_.

It was unexpectedly endearing.

Rose was about to ask where they were going and whether it would involve running for their lives when he misjudged a corner and nearly pulled her to the floor with him.

“Oooh, that was my knee. I just banged my knee into the wall, hah! Oh, my head,"  he burst into laughter, “that was my head on the door frame, Rose, did you see that? My head. The door frame.” He giggled, and it was just shy of hysteria, “I’ve never even _had_ a doorframe before.”

Rose stared at him for a moment. She took in the erratic twist of his tie, the scattered freckles over a face that hadn’t seen more than a few hours of sunlight and the scrunched folds of a formal black suit tailored specifically for this night (Jackie had declared that if he even thought about wearing the blue suit she would burn it and he’d have to attend naked. Rose had told him that if he showed up naked she would make sure they didn`t buy jam for a month. He was dressed two hours early.).

She thought _and how was that sentence gonna end?_ , smiled, and slid down next to him, curling her fingers through his and watching his grin widen as if she was the most important thing in his world. 

“You okay?” Rose leaned into the Doctor`s shoulder (still slightly cool against her arm despite a regenerative increase in body temperature) and toed off her heels—just then the doorframe looked like the most comfortable place in the universe.

She felt him nod against her hair, felt his thumb sweep warmly over hers as he squeezed her hand.

“I, Rose Tyler, am _fantastic._ ”

She shifted to a more comfortable position and leaned up to kiss his temple lightly.

“I know,” she assured him, “I love you too.”


End file.
